Compost Mumbler

Since we're revealing all our dirty secrets... ...we were, weren't we?

Anyway, since we were, this is often what you will see by my kitchen sink during winter: Composting in winter is a bitch.  Taking it out to the pile in frigid weather is bad enough.  Add 3 feet of ice-encrusted snow and it's a real party.  I hate it.  But since so much of what I cook involves veggies that must be peeled and trimmed, and since we're rolling in organic eggs thanks to my neighbor, the bucket fills up pretty quick, as do the secondary containers I fall back on.  Eventually it all has to go out.  The pile is pretty much buried in snow, really I'm just feeding the raccoons and possums at this time of year.  But better in them than in the garbage.  It's all for the greater good.

You've Got Issues

I don't watch TV, nor do I go to or watch a lot of movies. I don't even remember the last movie I went to. I've never tried to coherently explain my cinematic aversion. I don't know why when Jeeps suggests we go out to a movie, or rent one, or stream one on Netflix, something in me just squirms in reluctance. Not fear, not phobia, just an overall sense of "Eh?"

But why not go to a movie? Well...

1) There are just other things I'd rather be doing.

2) If I have the opportunity to get away from the kids and the house and go out with my husband, sitting in a dark room watching some other couple's story seems to defeat the purpose. There are exceptions. One very memorable date involved us going to a movie but having an hour to kill before it started. We ended up getting Wendy's and sitting in the car, eating and listening to A Prairie Home Companion on the radio. This was spontaneous and goofy and fun. Really. And I think the movie was Fellowship of the Ring.

3) I hate doing nothing. I must have some weird, Puritan streak because when I'm sitting idle with my hands doing nothing, I go crazy. The best solution is to knit while I watch a movie but this presents a problem in a movie theatre, and also at home because certain people who live here have to watch a movie in complete darkness. Don't ask me why, that's their post.

4) Movies are water, and I am a sponge. I am a radar dish. I pick up everything and I internalize everything. If it is a horror flick or thriller or some truly intense subject matter, I emerge from the theatre or living room a neurotic, anxious mess. I'm not kidding. I do not deal well with disconnection.  I have to take half a Klonopin after parties to unwind. After a movie like Saving Private Ryan or Schindler's List, I need a full tablet and therapy.

5) If it is lite, romantic fare, it's a different kind of neurotic mess:  I come out of the theatre a complete sap. I am either in the throes of infatuation, or knee-deep in a girl crush, suffering acute house envy, or have just assumed the persona of one of the characters and go around living his/her life for weeks.

Case in point:  You've Got Mail.

Ugh, You've Got Mail. This movie kills me on five thousand levels. Please, join me in my utter self-indulgence, let me detail them for you. [Editor's Note: there's no food in this post. Move on if you want.]

The Ephrons. I love Nora, rest her soul. I love Delia, I even love Amy, I love all things Ephron

I've had a thing for Tom Hanks since Bosom Buddies

Meg Ryan. 

(*Facepalm*)

Meg Ryan. She is so beautiful and charming in this movie, I want to kill myself. Cinematically speaking.

Rather, Meg Ryan is beautiful in this movie, and she makes her character charming. Let's talk about that. Let's bullet-point that, shall we?

• Her name. Nobody gets my name right. Nobody spells Suanne right, nobody says it right. I would never change it. I was named after my mother's college friend who warned them, pleaded, begged them not to name me Suanne. But they did. So it's my name. But sometimes I fantasize about what it would be like to be named Sara or Michelle or...(sigh)...Katherine. In You've Got Mail, Meg Ryan's character is named Kathleen Kelly. Do I need to go on? I didn't think so.

• Her style. That short little blonde flip, so casually messy: to die for.  er clothes: the schoolgirl, Talbots chic. The cardigans, crisp white shirts, pleated plaid skirts, tweed pencil skirts, a jumper over black turtleneck, opaque black tights, a classic trench coat. It sounds dowdy in writing but it is adorable. She doesn't wear high heels once in this movie! And her pajamas...(sigh)...it's really not fair that somebody over the age of ten can look so cute in pajamas.

• Her apartment. That Upper West Side brownstone with the parquet floors, the crown moldings, the built-in bookshelves, the bit of stained glass, the window seat, the chintz, the flowers in vases, the patchwork quilt on her bed...(head on desk in puddle of self-indulgent despair). Apartments like these do not exist in real life. OK, maybe they do, but nobody I know lives in a place like that. I will never live in a place like that. And it seriously is not fucking fair.

• Her shop. The Shop Around the Corner. A children's bookshop. Exposed brick, red-and-white striped curtains, pendant lighting, posters and pictures of books, shelves and shelves of books, Christmas lights festooned. The very first scene of her opening her shop in the morning and entering and what does she do? She changes the water in the vase of roses. During the weekly story hour, she perches on a child-sized chair and reads to the group wearing a peaked princess cap. That is my shop, dammit, and it sucks that it closed down in the movie and sucks that little shops like that continue to close down everywhere. That's a different post.

• The tea party. I searched and searched but could not find a clip from this particular scene of Meg Ryan, Jean Stapleton and another actress having a sumptuous cream tea together, but you can just imagine that it is near and dear to my heart. [Editor's Note: can I just insert one small political rant here?  If for no other reason, the so called Tea Party can go fuck itself because they are making it very difficult for me to search the Internet about MY idea of a tea party. Thank you.]

• Her handkerchiefs. Rather than tissues, Kathleen carries a handkerchief that her mother embroidered with daisies and her initials.

• Her love of daisies. "They're so friendly. Don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?"

So all these things, plus Starbucks and email and bouquets of freshly-sharpened pencils and a happy ending in Riverside Park, contrive to make You've Got Mail one of my favorite vices because I just want to crawl inside the damn thing and live it.

Many many many thanks to Julia at Hooked on Houses, a fabulous blog about real-life beautiful houses and beautiful houses you may have lusted over on the big screen. All the lustful You've Got Mail images came from her beautiful post about the movie. 

A similar but equally yummy blog is Sweet Sunday Mornings, dedicated to production design at the movies, so you get costumes, hair-styles and props as well as set design.

Nursery Supper

Nursery Supper is the meal one partakes with the nanny, in the nursery, while the adults of the household dine in state downstairs. I cannot seem to arrange this in my own household. Probably because I'm one of the adults and I can't be in pajamas in the nursery while my children dine in state. I simply haven't the servants required.

The closest I came to this concept was Playroom Supper, back before house renovations and we had this nifty room off the living room that the kids played and watched TV in. To all intents and purposes it was a nursery, less the sleeping quarters, and though I would not change a thing about the new configuration of the house, I find I do miss that little room. It was cozy, cheerful. Christmas lights were tacked around the windows all year long. The kids' artwork hung on the walls. It had a wicker couch and a little table and chairs, and on nights when Jeeps was working late in the city, I would serve Playroom Supper, and we'd eat at the little table and watch Rachel Ray or House Hunters (this was back when I had control of the TV).

More often than not, what we ate at Playroom Supper was scrambled eggs. Because Rosamunde Pilcher said so in Coming Home:

[Diana] came to settle herself in the corner of the nursery sofa, close to the fire. 'Do you girls want to come down for dinner, or do you want to have nursery supper with Mary?'

"'Do we have to change if we come down for dinner?' Loveday asked.

"'Oh, darling, what a silly question, of course you have to.'

"'In that case, I think we'll just stay up here and eat scrambled eggs or something.'

"Diana raised her lovely eyebrows. 'What about Judith?'

"Judith said, 'I love scrambled eggs, and I haven't got a dress to change into.'

"'Well, if that's what you both want, I'll tell Nettlebed. Hetty can carry up a tray for you.' She reached into the pocket of her pale-grey cardigan and produced her cigarettes and her gold lighter. She lit one and reached for an ashtray.  'Judith, what about that beautiful box you brought with you? You promised you'd show it to me after tea. Bring it over here and we'll look at it now.'"

I, too, love scrambled eggs, not only for myself to enjoy but as my favorite fall-back for dinner on those nights when I can't think of a thing, or the kids just seem too tired to contemplate anything more complicated than eggs and toast. When I hear friends tell of children who don't or won't eat scrambled eggs, I try not to look horrified. No judgement on them, it's just that I don't know what I'd do. Cold cereal, I guess. Bread and milk? My very dear friend Francie served waffles and fruit salad for dinner the other night. She's one of my food heroines.

In Home Cooking, Mrs. Colwin devotes an entire chapter to nursery food, which I could happily transpose here and force you to read. But I won't do that, I will just put it in a china plate with the letters of the alphabet around the rim, and spoonfeed you the brilliant essence:

"A long time ago it occurred to me that when people are tired and hungry, which in adult life is most of the time, they do not want to be confronted by an intellectually challenging meal: they want to be consoled...

Of course I do not mean that you should feed your friends pastina and beef tea (although I would be glad to be served either). But dishes such as shepherd's pie and chicken soup are a kind of edible therapy. After a good nursery dinner you want your guests to smile happily and say with childlike contentment: 'I haven't had that in years.'"

Children cannot resist this kind of food because, I feel, it is trustworthy. It is solid, dependable and, most of all, recognizable. There are no tricks with a scrambled egg. Nothing fishy about a meatball on top of pasta. And if it is a perfect bite-sized meatball for their little mouth, so much the better. In fact, with kids, the smaller the food, the better. They are born noshers. If life could be served on a cracker or picked up with a toothpick, what a wonderful world it would be.

Last night's lid potatoes illustrate this perfectly. When I serve my kids nursery food, their manners materialize, unprompted and impeccable. They turn downright lovey. "Oh, Mom, this is delicious, I love this dinner. Thank you."

Who can resist?

Ali's Chocolate Cake

Tonight's dessert is dedicated to Ali at the Verizon Help Desk, who saved me from utterly losing my schmidt when the VPN connection wouldn't work on the new laptop. To Ali, who went off script when he realized how upset I was, cracked a few jokes, and when all was resolved and I was gushing thanks and offered to make him a cake, he reminded me he was in India, but that I should make the cake anyway. He didn't care for Nutella, thank you, plain chocolate would be fine.

I happen to make a chocolate cake that is by no means plain. It comes from the Feb 2009 edition of Martha Stewart Living, "Cupcakes for All Occasions."

So it's a cupcake recipe but I almost always make it as a sheet cake. This is the cake the kids take into school on their birthdays. This is the cake I make when I get the sudden impulse, "Hmm, I think I'll make a cake." I've made it so many times that page 148 of the magazine is crumpled and sticky with translucent fingerprints. At this point, I can make it in my sleep. I love this cake and this cake loves me. 

You will love it too. If you don't love it, send it to me. I will love it and it will love me back.

By the way, did I mention you can make this cake in ONE bowl and ONE measuring cup. Watch. It's amazing.

Ali's One-Bowl Chocolate Cake à la Helpdesk

Preheat oven to 350 and spray a 9x13 baking dish with Pam (or prep your cupcake tin)

Get a liquid measuring cup, this will be your holding tank: measure 3/4 cup buttermilk. (If you don't have buttermilk, regular milk is fine or regular milk with a little plain yogurt or sour cream mixed in. I've made it with all these things, it's fine no matter what. I promise.)

Throw 2 tablespoons safflower oil into the measuring cup. (The original recipe does say safflower oil. I have used canola or whatever vegetable oil I had to hand and it's all fine. I make this cake so often now that I did go out and buy safflower oil especially for it.)

Crack 2 eggs into the measuring cup

Add 1 teaspoon of vanilla into the measuring cup.  Put measuring cup aside and proceed.

Get one (1) big mixing bowl out. (The white one pictured below, by the way, was my mother's, the mixing bowl of my childhood, and I will keep it forever and give it to Pandagirl or Redman. If they don't want it, please bury me with it.)

Put a strainer over a mixing bowl. Measure in:

• 3/4 cup cocoa powder*
• 1 1/2 cups flour
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 1 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 3/4 tsp baking powder
• 3/4 tsp salt.

Now listen to me, I'm going to get a little evangelical. Thou shalt use Hershey Special Dark cocoa powder. It will be thy cocoa powder and thou shalt have no other cocoa powders before it.

Sift all dry ingredients down into the mixing bowl. Make a little well in the center of your dry ingredients and start whisking in the contents of the measuring cup. Take the cup over to the sink, measure 3/4 cup warm water, whisk that in too until combined. There will be lumps.

Pour into baking dish or fill cup tins 2/3 full. Bake cupcakes 20 minutes. Bake full cake for 30-35 minutes. The top should be springy and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let cool 10 minutes if you can hold back the masses.

If you use the Special Dark cocoa powder (stern look) the cake will be a dark brown that is nearly black. In fact, if you put the cake down on your black granite countertops it will practically (audience lets out collective ooh) disappear (audience lets out collective ahh).

This cake needs nothing. But if you are so inclined, a generous blob of whipped cream islovely. In fact this combination is what Hostess cakes wish they could taste like if only they weren't filled with things no one can pronounce. But they have to have those things so they can stay for 6 months on the shelf until somebody buys them whereas a child can make this cake fresh in less than an hour.

Powdered sugar sprinkled on top of the cake is a nice touch but make sure it's completely cooled otherwise the sugar will melt and turn brown. If you are craft-oriented and feeling especially creative you can do something Martha Stewartesque like punch different-size holes in a piece of paper, lay the paper on top of the cake before sifting powdered sugar thereupon, and when you remove the paper you have lovely powdered sugar circles on your cake and everyone will go "ooooohaaaaah..."

But really, I like it best plain with a glass of milk...at around 3 in the morning.

Corn and Seafood Chowder

I totally made this up. I hope I can recreate it. Jeeps has a charming expression for this kind of cuisine...let's jut say he wants me to publish a cookbook called, From My Ass to Your Table. 

Har har.

This dish came to be because last time I was in the frozen food aisle of Trader Joe's, I remembered to get roasted sweet corn, and then I saw langoustines.

Gesundheit.  

Langoustines are crustaceans that looks like tiny lobsters. I put a bag in my cart thinking something interesting could be done with them and the corn, and also because I'd seen an interesting recipe with langoustines on Stacey Snacks.  Or maybe I'd dreamed that because when I went back to her site and searched, I couldn't find what I thought I'd seen.

Don't you hate that?

So I had frozen langoustines. I had frozen roughy. I had frozen shrimp. I had frozen scallops. And I had a hot husband asking for soup. Thus was born:

Corn and Seafood Chowder

I defrosted all the seafood in the fridge during the day, then drained it and cut the roughy into chunks. Besides these assorted fruits de mer of your choice, you will need:

• 1 onion, diced
• 3 carrots, peeled and diced
• 2 ribs celery, diced
• 1/2 red bell pepper, diced (the other half from when you made Hoppin' John)
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 3 potatoes, peeled and diced
• 1 sweet potato, peeled and diced
• Pinch saffron threads
• Dill (fresh or dried), and paprika
• Frozen corn (Hoppin' John left me with half a bag so I used that)
• Milk and half-and-half, or heavy cream
• Bottled clam juice (which I did not have although I made a desperate run to our local specialty deli in the hopes she would have it. She didn't, and don't get me started on there not being any good place around here where one can dash to get out-of-the-ordinary items, it's a post for another day)

Prep and dice all the veggies. In your soup pot (I used Madame LeCreuset), get some olive oil and a pat of butter going. Add the onion, carrot and celery first, saute 5 minutes, then add the garlic, pepper and potatoes. Saute another 5 minutes, then add water to just cover (about 2 cups). Add pinch of saffron threads.

Cover and simmer about 20 minutes, until vegetables are tender. Add roughy, shrimp, langoustines, and scallops.

Sprinkle seafood with dill and paprika, cover again and simmer at least another 5 minutes, until fish flakes and shrimp are opaque.

Add the corn, 1/2 cup cream, 1/2 cup milk, 2 tablespoons sherry and stir. The clam juice would've come in here if I'd had it. I tasted and fiddled with the salt to get it where I wanted it.  

This was one of those recipes where at the end, I am trawling the fridge with one half of me thinking hm, maybe a splash of lime juice, or what about some halved cherry tomatoes? And the other half is yelling LEAVE IT ALONE!

I left it alone, sprinkled a little parsley, and it was pretty damn good.  

Now I know what you're all thinking... OK, maybe not all of you, but I know what my friend Stacie is thinking: did my kids eat this?

(Haughty expression) Puh-leeze. I am a foodie. I am raising foodies. I encourage, nay, I insist my children expand and educate their palates and I make no concessions to picky eaters, thank you very much, what is on the table is what is being served and OH F**K NO, THEY DIDN'T EAT IT!

Yes, I made them scrambled eggs. Lame, but some nights you just want to eat your damn fish soup in peace. And when Redman patted my arm and said happily, "Mom, you make the best dinners," well, you see my point.

Pandagirl at least tried a few spoonfuls and admitted it didn't suck. There's hope.

Hoppin' John

This is not true hoppin' John. One, it has neither bacon nor sausage. Two, it has a host of other ingredients that have no business in authentic hoppin' John, but which I add to make it appeal to the shorter people who live in this house. Still it makes a great side dish or even a main course if you are in a vegetarian state of mind. I served it over rice tonight, along with roasted broccoli and brown-sugar glazed salmon. Along with my apologies and all due respect to the authorities on southern cooking. Think of it as a lighter, keener hoppin' John. Skippin' John. You might even call it Dancin' John, although I don't know if he'd appreciate that.

Hoppin' John

• 1 can black-eyed peas, drained and rinsed
• 1 small onion, diced
• 2 stalks celery, diced
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 carrots, peeled and diced
• 1/2 red bell pepper, diced
• 3/4 cup frozen corn 
• 1/4 tsp cumin
• 1/4 tsp ground coriander

Heat olive oil and a pat of butter in a skillet over medium heat. Add onion and saute 3-4 minutes. Add garlic, celery, carrot, and red pepper. Saute another 5 minutes. Add cumin, coriander and a pinch of red pepper flakes (optional). Add black-eyed peas and corn, stir to combine. Lower heat, cover, and cook another ten minutes. Before serving, add some chopped scallions and chopped parsley. Serve over white rice.

Best Bar Nuts, Bar None

Taking off for the weekend. I made Union Square Cafe Bar Nuts for the car ride...

IMG_2778

• 18 ounces (2-1/4 cups) assorted unsalted nuts
• 1 tablespoon butter, melted
• 1/2 teaspoon cayenne
• 2 teaspoons Maldon's sea salt
• 2 teaspoons brown sugar
• 2 tablespoons fresh rosemary,coarsely chopped

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Spread nuts on a baking sheet and toast in the oven until they are lightly browned, about 10 minutes.

In a large bowl, combine the melted butter, cayenne, sea salt, brown sugar, and rosemary. Thoroughly combine toasted nuts with the spiced butter and serve warm.

Enjoy!

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Coffee, tea...or should we just dance?

Dancers have a notorious reputation for being klutzes.  Offstage. Onstage we leap, turn, sustain, flow, tie eighteen movements into a single phrase, and navigate amongst each other with seamless, split-second timing.

Offstage we can't navigate the six inches between the couch and coffee table without banging a shin.

Or in my case, we can't get up from our desk.

I had a brilliant idea this afternoon to do a post about tea, specifically tea parties and the institution of British "high tea," replete with illustrations and excerpts from some of my favorite books.  Really, I was excited about this.  So excited that I got up from my desk to go over to the Mac where I house all my scribbles, so I could quickly jot down a couple notes.

OK, I jumped up from my desk.

Awkwardly.

Really awkwardly.

So awkwardly that I banged the desk with my hip, thus causing my Oy Vey coffee mug, which was half-full of cold coffee, to topple over.

Into my laptop.

My work laptop.

(Ugh, my stomach).

I yelled out a string of four-letter words that caused Pandagirl and her playdate to go utterly silent upstairs.  I pulled the plug and turned the laptop upside down as the fan whirred on, sputtered, coughed, and then died.  The screen went blank.  I howled to Panda, "Get the hairdryer!"

No, really, I said that.  I was slightly insane at the time.  It didn't help.  I might as well have yelled, "Get the tortilla!" like Jessie in Toy Story 3.

I had killed the laptop.

[Editor's note - there is no food in this post.  If you've gotten the jist by now and wish to leave ERT, it is perfectly understood.  Please do come again soon.]

I pinged my boss to tell her I had suddenly gone out of pocket.  I pinged Krista because when I am out of pocket, she is my gateway back in.  And then I braced myself for Helpdesk Hell.

I don't understand why there is not a touchtone option for "If you have spilled a beverage onto your laptop and need immediate therapy and a replacement...Press 2, dumbass."  Instead you wind up at the call center in India, with technicians who cannot go off script if their lives depended on it.  "How may I help you today, Ms. Laqueer?"  My last name is not Laqueer but that's often what it gets twisted into.  Don't ask.

"I spilled a cup of coffee on my laptop and killed it," I replied, hoping a little black humor would help this guy find his humanity.

"I'll be very happy to help you resolve this issue.  Can I get some information first?"

YOU HAVE MY INFORMATION!!  It's right in front of you on your screen from when I entered in my employee id seven commands ago, you automaton.  Very simple.  Laptop dead.   Need new.

Half an hour later I have a ticket # and have been cheerfully told that IT technicians do not work past 5:00 and someone will probably contact me in the morning.  "Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

Yes, you can help me clear space on the wall so I can bang my head against it.

(Ugh, my stomach).

So anyway, that rearranged my entire evening.  Took Panda to ballet class, completely distracted and snippy because in my head, while I am hoping for the best, I am preparing for the worst by taking mental inventory of what could be lost, what I can reconstruct, what I can retrieve from the server, what I can get from my teammates.  And kicking myself because I did have a few personal scribbles and a couple love letters in my c:\ drive that I kept nagging myself to move over to the MAC or at least put them on a CD.  I never listen to me.

What?  A love letter, come on, don't you have one somewhere?  Please, don't give me that look.

After I dropped her off I found myself with an iPhone full of notes (and not about anything fun like high tea!) and a lump in my throat.  So I did the only reasonable thing and walked over to the nail salon to get my eyebrows waxed.  See that way I could lie down and let the pity-party tears drip out the corners of my eyes while blaming it on the lady with the wax and tweezers.

I'm brilliant in my self-punishment.

Groomed and chastised, I went back to the studios to watch the rest of Panda's class through the one-way mirrors.

They were doing adagio at the barre to a piano arrangement of "True Love" from High Society.  I grew up on ballet classroom piano music.  Something about it either instantly soothes me, or makes me want to get up and do grands battements.  Tonight I just sank down on a bench and finally let go of my breath and my shoulders, and I just watched my daughter.  She was having a great class.  She got invited to this intermediate-level class by her teacher back in September, and she is the youngest in the class by a good three years.  But she is holding her own.  She's young—she fidgets and loses focus and is often looking in the mirror when she ought to be looking at the teacher.  But something was definitely clicking tonight.  And she was so sleek and pretty in her black leotard and tights, her hair pulled back smooth with a purple headband and a few wisps over her forehead, earrings sparkling.

I let go.  And let go a little more.  Some things cannot be replaced.  Some things lost can be found.  Some things turn out better when you start over.  Some love letters are better off unsent.  And, I am just finding out, when you search Google Images for "Dancer falling"...you get a lot of pictures of dancers who are falling, but still look like they are dancing.

[Editor's note - thank you for sticking with our baby on a hard day's night.  There will now be food.]

And I came home to find that Jeeps had made dinner.  The perfect dinner.  And I ate all of it.

IMG_2776

Roast Chicken

“There is nothing like roast chicken. It is helpful and agreeable, the perfect dish no matter what the circumstances. Elegant or homey, a dish for a dinner party or a family supper; it will not let you down.”

— "Roast Chicken", from More Home Cooking, by Laurie Colwin

Tonight I roasted a chicken and served it with sauteed sweet potatoes and edamame. I roast a chicken nearly every week. If I am particularly flush, I will roast two chickens and have the second to eat cold for lunches. Truthfully, I like cold roast chicken better than hot, and even more truthfully, I like cold roast chicken for breakfast better than lunch.

Enough confessions, darling, or else we shall fall madly in love and ruin everything.

I always struggled with time and temperature when it came to roasting, until Ms. Colwin showed me the way: 325 for 2 to 2 1/2 hours. I tried it once and have never looked back. Perfect roast chicken every time.

As for prep, I don't do anything fancy. Wash the bird in cold water and pat dry with paper towels, inside and out. Moisture creates steam and ideally you want dry heat rather than steam, although it won't ruin your dinner.

Remove the bag of giblets and...do whatever you think you should do with it.  And speaking of which, here is an old Sprint PCS commercial that I LOVE. Even though the woman in the spot is regarding a Thanksgiving turkey, her delivery is spot-on.

You want me to put my hand in the what?

Put your bird breast-up on the roasting rack in the roasting pan. Stuff the bird with a halved lemon, a thousand cloves of garlic (or less), and some sprigs of sage, rosemary, thyme, Simon or Garfunkle. Drizzle olive oil over the bird, rub into the skin, sprinkle with salt, pepper and paprika.

Roast at 325 for 2 to 2 1/2 hours. When the leg bone wiggles in the joint and the thigh meat registers 165 degrees on a meat thermometer, it is done. Let sit for at least 15 minutes to let the juices settle. Carve and serve.

Carve. Hah. I cannot carve a chicken to save my life. Really. It's embarrassing. I usually fob the job off on a willing guest, or use kitchen shears, or tear the bird apart with my hands in private while unapologetically eating the roast chicken skin and the tail and the wingtips—with the privilege that comes from being the chef.

I also have a gravy problem but I'm in a support group. I'm doing OK. One lump at a time.

Now here's a little story about roast chicken. My mother, being the groovy foodie she is, gave me one of those baking dishes with the central cone so you can roast your chicken vertically, ensuring evenly crisp and beautiful skin. As per manufacturer's recommendation, the cone is filled up with ale and the chicken is sprinkled with salt and pepper.  

I was having company for dinner one night, so I roasted one chicken vertically, and had a second chicken roasted in the traditional way. Just so we could all make a comparison.

The consensus seemed to be that both chickens were equally delicious. The vertical roasted method did not produce evenly crisp and browned skin, rather the neck and shoulders were beautiful and from the waist down it was...not. Furthermore, the ale in the cone didn't seem to bring anything to the table.

My mom later tried roasting just a turkey breast in the vertical roaster and said it was a howling success. I trust her on these things. Furthermore, roasting just the turkey breast skirts the whole issue of, "You want me to put my hand in the what?!"

Sauteed Sweet Potatoes (with those....things)

Lima beans called. They want you back.

I never had a good relationship with limas since I was a kid. I spent a lot of time picking them out of frozen mixed vegetable medley and lining them up around the rim of my plate. 

There was one memorable time I ate dinner over my best friend Frank's house, and her mother, my dear Aunt Susan, served baked ham and lima beans. And salad, thank God—I had to eat the beans out of politeness and I discovered drowning them in the salad dressing made them palatable.

I'm still not crazy about them yet there are so many delicious-sounding recipes for lima beans out there that make me think I need to give them another chance. I think the best chance I can give is to grow them in my garden, that way they will be super fresh and stand an extra fighting chance. Hold that thought until May.

This recipe is from Padma Lakshmi's cookbook Tangy, Tart, Hot and Sweet (as am I). 

Recipes from the book were featured in a magazine that I shamelessly swiped from the dentist's office. I tried the one for keralan crab cakes which were awesome. And I've made this sweet potato dish twice but I confess: I've never made it with limas. I use edamame instead. And I've made a host of other adaptions because I typically don't stock the spices called for (or my family doesn't care for them). Also my kids are more accepting of a mix of regular and sweet potatoes.

Sauteed Sweet Potatoes and (Lima Beans)

• 1 1/2 pounds sweet potatoes (or half sweet, half regular potatoes like Yukon Gold or fingerling)
• 1 pound frozen lima beans or edamame
• 1 1/2 tsp vegetable oil
• 1 tsp black mustard seeds (which I have never found; I've either gone without or substituted 1 teaspoon of whole grain mustard)
• 1 tsp cumin seeds (I use 1 tsp ground cumin)
• 1 dried whole red chili (I substitute a pinch of red pepper flakes)
• 1 onion, chopped
• 2 gloves garlic, sliced
• 1 tbsp minced fresh ginger (reach for your trusty jar or grate it fresh)
• 2 tbsp fresh lemon or lime juice
• 1/2 c chopped fresh cilantro

Boil the lima beans in enough water to just cover, 10-15 minutes. Drain. (Frozen, shelled edamame on the other hand will take only 5 minutes)

At the same time, boil the sweet potatoes in enough water to just cover them, until tender, about 25 minutes. Peel and dice once they are cool enough to touch.

Really, Padma? Really? Peel and dice after you boil them? Please. Swainma says peel and dice first, then steam the potatoes for the same amount of time. I will peel russet potatoes but for small ones like fingerlings I just scrub and dice them, skins and all.)

Heat the oil in a frying pan over medium heat. Add the mustard seeds; when they pop and start to crackle out of the pan, add the cumin, red chili, onion, garlic, and ginger. Stir well. Let the onion turn golden brown, then add the limas/edamame and stir. Add the sweet potatoes.

Mix all ingredients well and saute about 5 minutes more to let the tastes mingle. Salt to taste. Add lemon/lime juice and stir. Garnish with chopped cilantro.

I made this with roast chicken tonight and it was delicious.  But here's an interesting observation: I'm a slow eater, usually last at the table, with the result that my food often goes cold. I noticed the colder this dish got, the better it tasted. I started to envision it as a cold salad instead of a hot side dish. And while it was nice with the chicken, the spices made me think it would be even better on the side of barbecued ribs or grilled lamb.

Hold that thought until May...